Chris laughed. Actually she was feeling almost lighthearted. Till that moment she had had a morbid dread of being alone with him, and now behold her dread vanishing in mirth! Surely she had been very foolish, like a child frightened at shadows!
"I wonder where she is," she said. "I am afraid I have been playing truant this morning. I shall have to apologize, though it was all Noel's fault. Do see if you can find Mrs. Forest," she added to a servant just entering. "Ask her if she is ready for luncheon."
"Mrs. Forest is out in the motor, and has not yet returned," was the information this elicited.
"How odd!" said Chris. "What had we better do?"
Bertrand shrugged his shoulders, still looking quizzical. "We must not lunch without her, bien sûr. Let us go into the garden."
They went into the garden, and walked for a space in the September sunshine.
They talked at first upon commonplace topics, and Chris was wholly at her ease. But presently Bertrand turned the conversation with an abrupt question.
"Christine, tell me, you have never seen that scoundrel Rodolphe again?"
She started a little, and was conscious that she changed colour, but she answered him instantly. "No, never. But—why do you ask?"
Very gravely he made reply. "I have feared lately that there was something that troubled you. I was wrong, yes?"